Follow Your Passion: A Seamless Tumblr Journey
I want to be heard, but I have nothing to say. Know that I am here, even if you don't hear me. Listen to my shouts from the rooftops as I sit in my room. The sound of my screams through the door I keep locked. Please, hold my hand, as I push you away. I want to be heard, but I have nothing to say.
there is a girl with a pinned smile that “everyone adores”
She knows what they say when she closes her door
and knows that her tears dropping like flies will not help her
The girl with the pinned smile is a model student with straight A’s
She feels like screaming every time everyone says that she will be fine when they give her double the normal amount of work
She wants to drop dead when everyone gives her all the work in a project
When she tries to tell anyone her accomplishment that she worked for and she gets in return is a “yeah, we get it you're smart.” or a “stop showing off.” She wants to stop trying.
The girl with the pinned smile won the lottery with her looks
She has such smooth skin, that isn’t covered with bumps
The bumps are scratched until crimson runs down her skin
When someone says she looks pretty she will respond “thank you!” even though she knows they are lying
When they say that she is ugly she doesn’t respond to it and walks away, and she believes it
The girl with the pinned smile says “I love you too” as she closes her door
She walks over to her mirror and looks the stranger in the eye
She unpins her permanent smile as tears race down her face, her cheeks are sore
Her perfect curls look like bramble bush on top her head
She pushes up her hair revealing the ugly bumps on her forehead
She takes off her shirt showing the bumps on her back and the ugly pudge on her stomach
She takes off her shorts, and bra
She puts on some cute pajamas that don’t match her at all
Words such as Ugly and useless cloud her head
She wants to shut them up
But she agrees with them
A small voice says the opposite she quite’s it so it is not heard
That small voice is lying
She curls up on her bed
So small in the big world
She is scared
And lonely
And fat
And loud
She wants to scream but knows that will only make her more loud
She wants to be quite, but knows that is not her
She gets up out of bed and grabs her sandals
She runs out of the house which is silent
She runs to the closed park
No one ever goes there anymore
In the dead of night when not even a mouse awake
She lets her silent scream reach the world
If look back I’m sure I’ll remember, the words I held back and chose not to say. I am sinking, drowning, dying in my despair; a despair I caused and chose not to share. How I feel feels unimportant, not worthwhile of mention, I just wish I’d had said it before I started to feel benched in; inside my room is where I’ve chosen to stay, despite how I wish and want to feel the sun and go out to play. I have not the words to describe the way I feel caged, it’s pitiful truly. Stuck in a gilded prison I myself made. I find it sad though to be honest, I finally spoke my mind and mentioned this bind that in myself I find; and the reaction was tame, it makes me feel lame to say that I was hoping for hope, for words left unspoken to fall from my mouth and for your response to make me not quite hate myself, but here I am sitting in bed, phone in my hand and pillow at my head listening to you ramble on unabashed, wishing I’d trusted you less and acted less rash. Your speech is slow, words are slurred as you speak about pottery sharing interests long unheard. A part of me feels bad for my one word responses, for the fact that if you asked what you’d said I’d be at a loss for words that were supposed to be held in my mouth; words that even had I known I’d dare not spout. I love you my dear, you’ve always been there, and you’ve kept me up as sturdily as the chair, that was carved on the day I turned 8, I ate those feelings away, lost to the old wind, the passage of time, a reference to a time that bas never been mine but I have longed to reach in hopes of some simpler days that my mind conjured up in a tired, alone, upset, and tied down haze; And even as I speak these words now I am all to unsure that my words will be heard, that the ears I called forth for word, will brush me off to the side and my the words I once chose to keep but now relent on saying will once again go unheard. I love you my dear, but goddamnit are you dense; I wish I’d not crossed that fence, the line where I chose to belt out my heart in hopes that you’d hear, but to my dismay you were gone away in the fray of people living through their days, Ignoring me and walking around me without a word as if I am in their way.
I was feeling some complicated emotions regarding grief, emotions around grief, and other stuff. My grandma died on May 17th last year and I was feeling some confusion around all these feelings so yeah. Okay here’s the poem:
Blanket of grief
Grief, it’s complicated It feels so heavy Like a heavy blanket wrapped around your body It cuts so deep Like a knife going right for the heart It stings so bad Like a bunch of needles pricking your very soul It hits so hard Like a freight train going at full speed And hitting your spirit, which is stuck on the tracks At full force, without mercy It hurts, it hurts so much
And yet, as I’m starting to move on As the grief becomes less and less fresh As I’m starting to get used to the new normal A weird part of me, a twisted part of me, even Kind of misses it
A part of me misses the blanket The heavy blanket of grief The heavy blanket of empty sadness The heavy pressure on my soul Part of me finds comfort in the empty hollowness The deep sorrow my soul experienced While having that heavy blanket wrapped around itself
Part of me misses the knife The knife that cut through my heart at every memory I remembered Every memory of her The knife I tried to avoid by distracting myself The knife of truth, a painful truth, I tried to dodge Even though that only made the cuts bigger, the pain worse
Part of me misses the needles The needles that would prick my soul The needles which poked and taunted me from within The needles that came with each guilty thought, each unanswered question The needles of guilt and confusion, which I didn’t know how to deal with back then The guilt and confusion plaguing my very self at random
Sometimes, the freight train hits me again That’s the only thing I can’t really miss Not yet, at least It’s less bad, it hits less hard Less noticeable than when it was still new and fresh But it is there It hits with anything that reminds me of her It hits as I imagine what it would be like if she was still here Only to remember that she isn’t Not anymore The freight train brings the missed feelings back It comes with the blanket of sadness, knife of truth and needles of guilt and confusion Even though they’re all less heavy Less hard to deal with Less hard to swallow pills
I don’t know why I miss the fresh days of grief I didn’t like those times at all And still, an odd part of me Feels drawn to them Like a nostalgic memory I miss the blanket, even though it’s better that I learn to sleep without it I miss the knife, even though it’s good my heart is healing I miss the needles, even though it’s good that I’m hurting less What’s going on with me?
Feel free to comment and give your opinion on it but please don’t be mean, as this is a vent poem.
the inherent sadness of growing up alongside boys. watching as they are consumed by all the wrong lessons their fathers teach them. no, please don’t grow up. i miss the boy you were before your father hit your mother for the first time. before he screamed and you screamed back. before he said it has to be like this. i still love the memory of you. why must the wind beat down upon you and form you into a tree forever marred by the conditions it was forced to grow in. can i bring you back? shelter you from the wind? i guess i’ll never know. we’re both too grow to go back.
I miss the butterflies you gave to me
When you let me braid your hair.
You stopped speaking to me
And I don’t know why.
Now I don’t like you
And I certainly don’t love you.
But I am infatuated.
If I could split your ribs,
Tearing you open with my bare hands,
I would curl up in your chest
And lay my head on your heart.
If you were to bring a hammer down
And crack open my chest
I would let you claim that space.
Then you would hold captive my soul
For you already reside in my mind.
So crack me open and burrough inside me
Or let me tear you apart.
Either way
No one walks away
Without a permanent mark.